Adventures in House-Showing

We listed our house two weeks ago and didn't have one person come to see it.

We lowered the price yesterday.

Today at 1:35 I got a phone call from my agent asking if it was OK if someone came between 2 and 3. I was supposed to leave at 1:45 for Kate's piano lesson. I called Liz and asked if she felt like doing a good deed and she ran over and helped me pick up quickly and clean up the kitchen. We ran around insanely and got it all done and she took Natalia (the dog) to her backyard.

We got home from piano at 3:00 and the realtor had not come. (It's nice to have a neighbor to spy on things like that for me.) Natalia had eaten grease and a dirty diaper in Liz's backyard. (Wow, Liz. I bet you want a dog now.) We hung out on the front lawn until 3:30, when I decided most likely no one was coming after all, and it was safe to go back home.

At 4:05, sitting in the basement, I thought, "What is that SMELL?"

It was the dog. Grease and dirty diapers lead to truly smelly dog farts.

At 4:06, I saw an Audi pull into my driveway. Realtor. Potential buyer.

I grabbed Ben, the dog and her leash, and sprayed lilac room spray to try to mask smelly dog fart.

The downstairs then smelled like lilac farts.

I don't think we'll be getting an offer.

Cast out of Eden

So it's been mentioned that I have some pretty strong feelings about my neighborhood in general and my street in particular. It is with strong feelings that I reveal that we might be leaving my little inch of paradise.

I know many of you already are privy to this news, thanks to many tear-filled phone calls, word of mouth (news travels fast through the third grade grapevine), and a late-night Facebook confession.

But here's the whole story, nonetheless. Warning...I'm afraid I can't tell this story without veering into the spiritual realm. If that's off-putting, feel free to click here for a more secular (and much funnier) story about househunting. Actually, click on it, anyway. It's super funny.

You're back? OK...here is the story:

David and I love our home. However, a few years ago we started thinking about the little things we'd really like in our house, like a two-car garage, a master bathroom, more space for entertaining our big families and for our eventual teenagers to hang out. We've met with an architect, we've drawn up countless plans, and we knew just what we wanted to do to make our current home our forever home. That's been the plan. That's what we wanted.

In the last few months, we've started praying for some guidance in other areas in our lives. I've been praying for Heavenly Father to make our life path crystal clear. This was not about a move, but about some work-related issues, or at least that's what I intended the prayers to be about. At the same time, we've been talking about plans to start the add-on process. We figured that with interest rates as low as they are, there couldn't be a better time to take the equity in our home and make it all happen. But as we moved forward with those plans, we started hitting a few roadblocks, and we decided we'd better look at what existing homes were in the price range we'd be at after pouring money into an addition.

So we eventually ended up looking at two homes: one in Harvard/Yale, and one in North Salt Lake. We love Harvard/Yale. We actually got engaged on Yale, and we always thought if we left this area, that would be where we'd end up. North Salt Lake has been completely off my radar. I think I've been in the city once in my whole life. Somehow, though, we felt drawn to this certain house, and since NSL is so close to downtown, we thought we'd consider it.

We walked into the house on Laird, and knew it wasn't right. We walked into the house in NSL and I felt like I'd been hit over the head with a baseball bat. Within five minutes, I knew we had to make an offer on the house. It wasn't because it was spectacular (although it is lovely), it was because something bigger was pushing us in that direction. I felt it over and over again as we walked through the house.

I felt peaceful about it as we left the house, but I was really disturbed. I'm not a big fan of big houses on big hills. I'm not a big fan of non-walkable, non-diverse communities. I'm not a big fan of anywhere that's not similar to MY neighborhood. (Sorry, NSL people. No offense meant. I'm sure you're lovely people, and I'm looking forward to meeting you.) I fasted about it on Sunday, and felt like it was time for me to be stretched, but I was throwing an inner fit.

Monday I was a mess, and Tuesday was worse. David said he thought we should walk through again to decide if we really felt like we should make an offer. We did, and as we walked into the house again, I felt a spirit of peace just wash over me. So I signed the papers, and the rest was history.

Except then we had to tell people. Like Eric and Christina. And John and Katy. And Liz and Jeff. And...well, you all know who you are. It was AWFUL. AWFUL, I tell you.

And the kids were devastated. And then we told them the story, and then they were OK.

And then we drove up on Thursday night to show the kids. And afterward I sobbed for an hour. I don't want to leave my house, or my street, or my ward, or my neighborhood, or our schools, and especially not my friends and family. But apparently, this is what we're being directed to do, so I somehow need to adjust my attitude.

So that's the story. How it will end, I don't know. If our house doesn't sell, I don't have to move. The bishop threatened to take the sign off my lawn tomorrow. I figure if the bishop does it, it's totally OK, right?

Our Little Piece of Eden

We moved onto our street nearly nine years ago. We were excited to be in this area, especially after living in an area that was...hmmm...how can I put this?....unsavory. Unsavory might mean that there were 3 murders in the 3 blocks around our house in the 5 years we lived there, that our street was blocked off by SWAT teams more times than I can remember, once (or was it twice?) even trapping Eric & Christina at our house overnight, that I once walked into my backyard holding Josh to find a strange man looking back at me, and that our home was invaded by a gang that vandalized and burglarized us, leaving behind a gun for me to find a couple of months later. Yeah, it was unsavory.

So we eventually decided to find a new house, and moved onto our circle on July 3. The next day, on the Fourth of July, I walked to the park with my brother and the kids in the stroller and I was blown away by the people sitting on their porches, visiting with neighbors, exuding 1950's camaraderie. It just felt like I'd moved to a different planet, not just a neighborhood only three miles away.

And the love affair with my neighborhood has just bloomed. I love our school, and how so many moms hang out at the kindergarten gate and chat. I love my ward, and how we have original owners of the homes mixed with young couples just married. I love that there is a decent amount of diversity here (yes, we're still in Utah, and the majority of kids at our school are blond, but there's still more diversity than I expected.) I love how close we are to the mountains. I love how close David is to work. I love running up and down the streets and seeing so many other people doing the same thing.

But most of all, I love my neighbors. I LOVE MY NEIGHBORS! (Hey, guys! I know you're reading this. Didja catch that? YOU ARE AMAZING.)

When we had moved in, there were great people living on the street. Josh had plenty of playmates, and we had a wonderful time. We have loved so many people on this street, people who have come and gone, who we still love dearly. But it has never been better than it has been for the last few years. We are surrounded by amazing families who I trust completely, whose parenting meshes with mine, who have rescued me time and time again in so many circumstances, who have been there in horrible times and in great times. These are amazing people.

My favorite thing ever? Starting in the spring, as soon as it gets warm enough, night after night after night, we sit outside on the lawn, let the kids play until all hours, talk about everything and nothing, and just soak in the beauty of simple pleasures. Liz will make her zucchini chocolate cake. The babies will sit on blankets. John will bring out the portable fire pit and we'll make smores. David will set up the volleyball net and the kids will play badminton. The rollerblades go by, the bikes go by, the soccer ball comes out, the sidewalk chalk comes out. Summer barbecues, sleeping in tents in the backyard, Fourth of July picnics and watching fireworks on the lawn...there will never be anything like these nights.





I don't want to take this beautiful thing for granted. I know we are blessed. I think paying attention to the good things make them even more valuable. So here's my payment: Life is good. I recognize it. I honor it.

Let It Snow

We spent a gloriously quiet afternoon at home. The big kids played in the snow, then came in for hot chocolate, warm baths, and dinner. Our evening hours were spent TV-free, thank you very much, in front of the roaring fire and Christmas tree, reading and playing games. Josh and Sophie played Battleship and Scrabble, Ben toddled from book pile to Daddy's lap, back and forth, over and over, and later the girls came to the piano with me and sang Christmas primary songs.

Things don't come together like this very often, but when they do, they're beautiful. Hooray for a peaceful, happy, Christmas-y day.

Giving Thanks, Day 25 & 26

Day 25

I'm grateful for David's relaxed attitude today.

When he came home from work, David did not even mention how crazy it is that our downstairs is still covered (COVERED.) in papers, pictures, concert programs, childrens' artwork, and I'm not even sure what else. What a good man. What a patient man.

Instead, he made a big deal about how great my grocery shopping bargains were and how much money I saved. This is a man I'll keep. (Oh, and he also said I'm getting skinny...My oh my. I think my brain may explode.)

Day 26

I'm grateful for seeing my family room floor.

I'm getting closer to finishing my organizing. Oh my goodness. I had no idea how long this would take. I pictured ample time pre-Thanksgiving to polish the baseboards, re-cover the kitchen chairs, make new kitchen curtains, and of course by now I was planning on freezing my homemade rolls to pull out of the freezer tomorrow morning, finishing up the final touches on the yams, and making jam to go along with dinner.

Ha ha ha. Did I mention my optimism is sometimes inaccurate as far as results are concerned?

Time to get back to the paper madness...